


My darling, my dearest friend.

by goldfwish



Series: Drarryland 2019 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies With Benefits, Hatred, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18048635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfwish/pseuds/goldfwish
Summary: Two boys, one named after our dragon, and the other with lightning in his eyes. It is an intriguing sight to see, certainly. But my dear, beware, you cannot believe all that you hear. For liars are abundant in this realm.





	My darling, my dearest friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Harry and Draco think they know each other. One day, they’re tasked with bringing each other down. Choose either 1) undercover Aurors -OR- 2) war spies -OR- 3) cell mates - Minimum: 300 words - Maximum: 1301 words. Must have at least one Harry and one Draco POV section. 
> 
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> In case of any POV confusion:  
> Sections with "darling" are Draco's  
> Sections with "friend" are Harry's

Come closer, my dear. Would you like to see? Come, if you stand just there, yes, can you see them? Two boys, one named after our dragon, and the other with lightning in his eyes. It is an intriguing sight to see, certainly. But my dear, beware, you cannot believe all that you hear. For liars are abundant in this realm.

::::::::

I wake up to sheets that are warmed by a body that is not my own. Harry Potter’s body is on display, with skin freckled by sunlight filtering in through velvet curtains. It’s warm, too warm. Why am I here, I wonder? But then I remember. Darling, how could I forget? The red eyes, like dull philosopher’s stones, a crude approximation of immortality. The whispered command, sliding over my skin, cool and scaly. My mother’s silent tears staining the floor.

This is my plan, darling. Slide closer, closer, close enough to kill.

I can only wonder why he’s letting me.

He loves me, he loves me not. It’s a dangerous game to play, my darling. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a choice.

We get out of bed and put our clothes on, the rustling of sheets and fabric the only thing breaking the silence of the room. He looks at me, and ah. Did you see, darling?

_Hatred._

That’s better.

—

Draco Malfoy takes his tea with one sugar and a splash of milk. How do I know? Well it’s simple, my friend. I’m watching, always watching. Waiting for the perfect moment.

From his seat across the hall, he brings his lips up to the rim of the cup. Blows once, sips. It’s the same routine every single day. It’s boring, monotonous. I turn away. And then I remember. Secret meetings in the darkest hour of the night, with damp creeping up the walls like serpents clinging to life. Low voices arguing with one another. Urgency. An order.

Owls arrive, letting in bitter wind through the open window panes. They carry newspaper and package, magazine and gift, the sounds of crinkling and fluttering wings swooping over the tables. He looks at me among the flurry, and oh. Did you see, my friend?

_Anger._

Good.

—

It should’ve been easy, my darling. A discreet sleeping potion in his tea, to gently sweep away dreams and promises of tomorrow. A quill slipped in his bag, cursed to take away speech, thought, free will. An enchanted broom, that once it takes flight, is falling, falling, gone.

All these items, always within reach. But I’m never quite able to grasp them.

But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, darling. Our hatred for each other never wavers. It never will, I assure you. It’s obvious in the way he pins me down, buries me deeper into the darkness of the mattress every night. It’s there in his eyes, those eyes that are always watching. His intensity that promises destruction.

It’s a promise of an end.

—

How should I do it, my friend, which do you think is the best method? I could hex him, slash my wand at him until he’s reduced to nothing. Maybe take him to the forest, to let the elements do their bidding. Or maybe just the old fashioned way, with nothing but my hands against his skin, pushing and pushing at him until his life is pulled away.

I could do it, I _should_ do it. But my hands never quite follow through.

I loathe him, you have to understand. It’s only that he keeps ruining my plans, you see. He grips my hands, encases it in his palms, interlocking his fingers with mine like manacles that are impossible to break free from. When I reach for his neck, intending to trap his air in his lungs until he submerges into void, his bright silver gaze freezes me in place, a wandless, wordless enchantment.

But my friend, I don’t want you to think that I can’t do it.

It’s only a matter of time.

—

My darling, I have never been so cold. The wind is a brutal thing; it tears at my limbs, at my lungs, until I cannot breathe, cannot feel, cannot think.

He is a hurricane, and I can’t look at him, it hurts, it _hurts_. I’m tripping, I can’t stand, but his muscles are strung tight, his presence solid, and darling, I have never detested anyone more.

I’ve never been fond of heights. Of the empty space between planes of safety. I should be scared, darling. I should be frightened. But as his body makes contact with mine, as his hands, oh those hands, are pushing, pushing at my chest, I feel safe. This time I don’t shackle him, don’t dare contain his ire.

My shoes stumble on gravel and dirt, and then I’m falling, falling, and darling, look.

The stars are pretty tonight, aren’t they?

—

I tell myself that I despise Draco Malfoy. That I want him gone. But as I stand there, watching him disappear down into the dark, his hair luminescing and his moonlit eyes locked onto mine, I realize.

—

I tell myself that I hate Harry Potter. That I’m glad I won’t ever have to see him again. But even as I’m falling, watching his strong hands lower to his sides, his mouth set into a grim line and his eyes blazing, I know.

—

My friend.

My darling.

_I am a liar._


End file.
